


i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

by wulancaka (surabayuh)



Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe, Gundala (2019)
Genre: Budding Love, Comedy, F/M, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fake-parent relationship, it's about the pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 17:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20550077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surabayuh/pseuds/wulancaka
Summary: Sancaka and Wulan disagrees, a lot. On many things—big or small. Sometimes it was practical, sometimes philosophical. On idle days, Sancaka thought it was what kept this relationship (what relationship, now that he wasn't sure) alive.Still, if there was one thing Sancaka and Wulan could ever immediately, wholeheartedly agreed on, it was that the sky is blue, the sun is hot, and Teddy is a little shit.An adorable one, but still a little shit.





	i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

**Author's Note:**

> another nano-nano piece, so ind-dialogue and eng-description!

Sancaka and Wulan disagrees, a lot. On many things—big or small. Sometimes it was practical, sometimes philosophical. On idle days, Sancaka thought it was what kept this relationship (_what relationship, _now that he wasn't sure) alive.

Still, if there was one thing Sancaka and Wulan could ever immediately, wholeheartedly agreed on, it was that the sky is blue, the sun is hot, and Teddy is a little shit.

An adorable one, but still a little shit.

It all begun in about two months after the whole drug fiasco, after the fight on the factory’s roof. He and Wulan was still cautious in interacting with one another, but there was a spark here, a blush there, a stammered reply every once in a while. There was _something, _and if Pak Agung saw it he would have teased him mercilessly.

(He tried not to dwell too much on thoughts about Pak Agung—even his name alone still made his heart clench.)

While they were too busy bickering (_flirting? _Lord knows) they didn’t take the little boy's meddling in their minds. And oh, how he _meddled_; intentional or not—it still landed them into this precariously tangled web of lies.

Of course, the lie was harmless; not serious, life-and-death lies, but still.

Sancaka blushed every time he thought about it.

* * *

The first time was when Wulan ended her first week down the hospital. She applied there after it was evident that they weren't going to move out of their crampy _rusun_ anytime soon, reusing her nursing degree and experience, deciding to plant her feet back on healing and aiding people.

If there was one thing Sancaka admired about Wulan, it was her attentive care to genuinely help others, no matter the circumstances.

Today was Sunday—a sudden shift, one that was instructed at the last second. Wulan had knocked Sancaka's door at three in the morning, before thrusting a grumbling Teddy at his aid the second he opened his door.

“Aku ada jam jaga, dadakan, darurat pula.” she said, hastily, as if it was a plausible reason for waking him up at such an ungodly hour. “nitip Teddy, ya? Nanti siangan aku pulang, kok.”

Teddy looked at Wulan, whining, “Mbak Wulan—”

“Ssh, Teddy, jangan berisik. Tembok sini tipis, kasihan tetangga.” She said, reprimanding him with a hushed voice. “nanti siang Mbak ajakin makan di mall, deh. Gimana?”

Teddy was still protesting, letting out unintelligible words. So Wulan turned at Sancaka, who was rubbing his eyes in annoyance himself.

“Tolong, ya?” she pleaded with a soft voice, stirring something in Sancaka's stomach.

“makannya ngajak aku juga, gak?” Sancaka teased with a hoarse voice, one that had been colored with slumber. He’d only slept for half-an-hour, spending his night instead on battling thugs and criminals that worked under the night's shadow, as per usual. He thought his hazy eyesight fooled him when he saw her cheeks faintly reddening.

“iya, deh, semua ke mall nanti siang.” She said, the faux annoyance failing to hide the affectionate amusement in her tones. Sancaka smiled, looking at her intently, before finally taking Teddy by the shoulder. Wulan smiled, softly, her honey eyes reflecting the dancing lights around them. “makasih ya, San.”

He didn’t really trust his voice to answer, so he merely nodded, eyeing Wulan as she ruffled Teddy's hair one last time and handed him their home’s keys, before going off to work.

His eyes didn’t leave her back up until she disappeared down the hallway, and he could faintly heard Teddy grumbling, “…cin, bucin.”

Once he was alone with Teddy, he was suddenly at loss on what to do. Now taking care of him during daylight, that was easy. He'd just have to turn on some TV, let Teddy be immersed in Doraemon, or Chalk Zone, or SpongeBob, or _something. _But at this hour?

“Bang.” Teddy was already whining. “_ngantuk.” _

Sighing, Sancaka had no other options but to lead him to his room—where the single bed could only fit one occupant. It seemed like tonight was a couch night, after all.

When his head finally hit the sofa's armchairs, sleep immediately claimed him back. He had such a deep sleep that when Teddy shook him awake, the sun was already rising high.

“_Akhirnya.” _Teddy said, dramatically, wiping a metaphorical sweat off his eyebrows. “susah banget sih bang, bangunnya.”

Sancaka mumbled things that shouldn’t be said in the presence of a kid. “Jam berapa?” he grumbled, his voice even more hoarse than before. He needed water.

“Setengah 12.” Teddy replied, as Sancaka went to the kitchen and grabbed himself a drink. “Tadi Mbak Wulan telpon HP-nya Abang, katanya dia jam setengah 1 udah selesai.” He added, his tone informative.

Sancaka gulped the remaining of his water. “terus?” he asked, still grumbling, head and mind still halfway disoriented from his surroundings.

Teddy stomped his foot, and only then did Sancaka turn and realize that he was already dressed, combed, and ready to go. “Ya siap-siap lah, Bang! Jemput mbak Wulan!” he said, impatiently. When Sancaka didn't catch on, he added, “kan dia janjiin kita jalan ke mall habis selesai jaga!”

Oh. _Oh._

Sancaka almost tripped on his way to the bathroom, much to Teddy’s entertainment. He could hear that little boy cackling from outside as he washed his beet-red face with the coldest water he could get.

When he was finally ready, it was exactly 12 PM, and Teddy was tapping his feet in impatience. “ayo, bang, ayo!” he said, his unbridled excitement uncontainable.

“iya, bentar,” Sancaka said, suppressing a faint smile and failing as he tied his shoes. Teddy's childlike joy always had that effect on him.

They took one busway to Wulan's workplace, stepping out of the bus stop right in front of the hospital she worked on. Next to it was a grandeur mall, no doubt lost on the counts of Jakarta's endless shopping centers.

He felt equally lost as he awkwardly approached the receptionist table, moving his hand stiffly. “Ada yang bisa dibantu?” asked the lady-in-waiting, her megawatt smile too faux and unsettling.

“uh,” Sancaka was dumbfounded, and Teddy tugged his hand impatiently. “mau jemput Wulan?” his voice at the end raised a pitch, went upturned, like a question. When the lady raised her eyes in confusion, he hastily added, “Sedhah Esti Wulan. Perawat di sini. Katanya jam jaganya sudah selesai.”

“Oh,” said the lady, still smiling though now it was more humane. “bentar ya, coba saya telfonkan.”

Sancaka waited as the lady rung the landline, his eyes idly gazing around the massive hospital. He'd only been to one, before, a musty, bleak hospital that was owned by the regional government. His grandmother was sick, and she was stuffed into three other patients in a cramped room because they couldn't pay the fees. She died five days after she was admitted.

He wondered how his grandmother would have fared if she was put to hospitals like these.

Teddy, meanwhile, was immersed to his headphones, most probably listening to those rap songs he liked so much. He took a seat at the spare sofa, head turning around with the curiosity of a cat.

“Pak?” said the lady, surprising him. “Bu Wulannya sudah selesai, ya, tadi katanya sudah turun.” She told him, and he nodded in wary gratitude. He waited some more, taking aimless steps around the large hall as he did so, until he saw her from his peripheral vision.

Wulan walked out of the elevators with other people wearing the same uniforms—her friends, he guessed. She grinned when they made eye contact, her honey eyes bright. “Udah lama?” she asked, her steps hastening halfway through getting to his side.

Sancaka opened his mouth, wanting to reply that the wait wasn't too long, when a high-pitched, whiny voice cut him.

“_buk, _lama banget sih,” Teddy, now with headphones merely hanging on his neck, snuck his way in-between Wulan and Sancaka. “Aku tuh udah laper,” he pouted giving her an exaggerated glare.

Sancaka blinked. Wulan gaped.

“’Buk’?” she echoed, her voice undecipherable.

“Iya, _ayo, _buk, tadi kan ibuk janji makan bareng,” Teddy replied without missing a beat. “Bapak dengerin juga kan ya, Pak?”

Oh. Wait. Teddy was now turning, looking at him with his hands crossed. Oh. Wait.

He was _bapak_.

He didn’t need a mirror to know how scarlet his face was at that moment.

“Teddy—” Wulan began, heatedly, her cheeks blushing a stunning maroon. “Apaan sih—”

“duh, Lan, lucu banget deh anakmu.” Piped a voice, and both Wulan and Sancaka whipped their heads at the direction of her long-forgotten colleague. They were snickering and watching Teddy with fond eyes.

“ini—” Wulan was flabbergasted, cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson by the second. “dia bukan—”

“ayo, _buk, Pak.” _Teddy whined, again, and Sancaka was so sure he saw malice in Wulan's eyes when she whipped her head at her little brother.

“Iya, _buk, pak_,” teased a male colleague of hers, “kasihan, tuh, anaknya sudah laper.”

Wulan opened and closed her mouth, over and over, like a koi fish. When she found her voice again, she harshly grabbed Sancaka's sleeve, harshly gritting, “San!” through her teeth. “bantuin!”

But Sancaka was so awkward and embarrassed to be put in such a spotlight, in such a _confusing _situation, that by the time he got over his bearings it was way too late; Teddy was already dragging the both of them outside the hospital's doors, straight to the Mall’s area.

“Teddy!” Wulan said, when Teddy finally slowed down at the perimeters of the Mall's entrance. “Apa-apaan?!”

The little boy merely eyed Wulan intently, giving her a glare equally as challenging as hers. “makanya,” he said, “lain kali jangan bangunin aku tengah malem lagi.”

“Kamu nih ya—”

While Wulan and Teddy heatedly argued throughout their trip to the food court, Sancaka was way to speechless to give his own two cents on the whole 'bapak-ibu' debacle.

As they sat on the table, the bickering only stopped when the food arrived, and then the whole fiasco was soon forgotten, replaced with anecdotes of their day.

If Sancaka's hand lingered on Wulan's for longer than necessary when they accidentally bumped into each other upon grabbing the chopsticks, none of them mentioned it.

But that was the story of how Sancaka became Wulan's faux-work-husband, one she would be mercilessly teased about by her co-workers for months to come.

* * *

The second time was less mischievous and more… concerning, to say the least.

“mana anaknya?” said Wulan as she stormed to one of the police stations, hair messily ruffled and nursing uniform crumpled. She sounded as distressed as Sancaka felt as he walked in tow, his own uniform crinkling at his hasty movements.

The police at the front desk stood up with her hands raised, “mohon maaf Ibu,” said the policewoman with the most formal voice possible it almost ticked Sancaka. “ibu mencari siapa ya?”

But Sancaka's eyes had already landed on him—sitting at the waiting bench with fearful eyes—before Wulan could coherently answer the officer. “Teddy!” he almost yelled, walking at him with long strides before crushing the boy into a hug.

Oh God. Oh _God _he was so _scared._

When Wulan phoned him in his way from work, her voice was trembling; she stammered about how Teddy was, as usual, taking an ojek home from school. How, after thirty minutes of skirting and dodging, it was evident that the driver's intention was to bring Teddy anywhere _but _home. How, in an almost desperate attempt to escape, Teddy rolled himself out of the backseat when the motorcycle was speeding, before running for his life to the nearest police station.

Even recalling it made Sancaka's stomach twist, and his heart lurch.

“Ya Ampun,” said Wulan, and suddenly she was beside him, shivering hands reaching Teddy's cheeks. “Ya Ampun, ya Ampun—”

She snuck one arm around Teddy's neck, another around Sancaka's waist, and pulled them into a shaky embrace.

“Mbak—” said Teddy, voice quivering, his mouth opening but no sounds coming out, before he finally broke into sobs, burying himself into the joined shoulders of Wulan and Sancaka.

_God, _Sancaka thought as he tightened his grip around Teddy. _God, he was only ten._

What would happen if he didn’t—? If there wasn’t—?

The policewoman, apparently, was not a fan to be ignored. “Maaf,” she cleared her throat, drawing their attention to her. “tapi saya harus memastikan identitas ibu dan bapak, apakah memang benar wali dari adik ini.”

Wulan exchanged wary glances with Sancaka, before reluctantly distancing herself from her little brother—

Only to have herself pulled back into Teddy's small hands, refusing to be left out for just another second. Another attempt, this one Sancaka's, and just like Wulan he was pulled back by a surprisingly strong grip.

Teddy whimpered, his sobs wetting their work clothes.

A little bit of Sancaka's heart broke even more.

_He was only ten._

Sighing, the officer looked like she was losing her patience. She ran her hand through her hair, seemingly thinking a way to be able to verify their identities, quickly, and not cause a fuss with an already distraught child.

“Dek,” she finally said, with a much warmer, albeit forced tone, “ini bener orang tua kamu?”

Sancaka blinked, exchanging surprised glances with Wulan. He was about to open his mouth the explain their delicate situation—

(But what was he supposed to say? _No, she's his non-registered half-sister and I’m their superhero neighbor, we just have this found family thing going on, it's complicated—) _

When Teddy merely nodded and hummed in affirmative, finally looking up to the officer with wet, teary eyes.

“Oke,” said the officer, exhaling a relieved breath. “oke, boleh nggak lepas salah satu biar mereka bisa ngurus surat pelepasan kamu?” she coaxed Teddy again, her voice now as kind as possible.

It took him a while, but finally Teddy released Sancaka, with his wide eyes gazing up at him, trailing his every movements. Sancaka himself struggled to calm himself down, and when he signed the papers, his hand was shaking.

The Indonesian Police System didn't really have a database to match information about the people in their custody, and even if they were, the police woman seemed to be disinterested to open it up and check him out herself.

Instead, she took the paper and eyed it with one look, before looking at Sancaka intently. “Pak, lain kali, anaknya jangan disuruh pulang sendiri.” Said she, her voice firm yet gentle, an admonition. “apalagi sekarang—lagi marak penculikan anak. Mungkin bisa diikutkan antar-jemput atau bis sekolah saja kalau memang dari bapak-ibu tidak bisa menjemput sendiri.”

Sancaka opened his mouth, his reflexes telling him to correct her that _no, _he wasn't his _dad,_ but then he thought of Teddy, afraid and alone, running for his life, needing all the reassurance and comfort and familiarity that no police station could offer, and suddenly the truth didn’t really matter anymore.

He handed his KTP, and Wulan handed hers, and for a brief second they could feel the officer judging their unmarried status written at the column, but then she stamped the letter and sent them off.

Throughout their way back, all three of them was silent, huddling themselves on the corner of the busway. When they arrived at their stop, they didn’t stop holding each other's hands all the way through their houses.

Sancaka asked Teddy, softly, if he remembered the ojek's license plate. Teddy recounted it with a shaky voice.

That night, the first target of his patrol was a rogue Honda Mio rider, and he took personal pleasure in rough-housing him. Perhaps that made him less of a hero and more like the thugs he was always trying to fight, but for once in his life he found that he did not quite care for this particular instance.

When he returned in the early mornings, there was Wulan, sitting at her sofa with two warming cups of tea.

“Kita hampir—” she said, struggling with her words. “aku hampir—” she choked on her bile, and her tears spilled over.

Sancaka took her hands in his, holding it close to his mouth. “ssh,” he said, his voice equally as shaky. “dia di kamar.” He said, his voice dry and throaty. “dia tidur. Dia _aman.” _

_He wasn’t out there, alone. Wasn’t escaping from the thugs. Wasn’t clueless, and desperate, and afraid. _

_He wasn’t doomed to the life Sancaka led in the streets._

Neither of them was able to find slumber until the morning, their hands tangling together the whole time.

And that was the story of how Wulan and Sancaka became Teddy's legal parents in the eyes of Polsek Kuningan.

* * *

The third one… well, the third one was unexpected, to say the least.

It was Friday, almost a year after the whole kidnapping debacle. Sancaka's shift ended early on Fridays, so he agreed when Wulan asked him to drive her to Teddy's school to pick his report card.

It felt weird, to share responsibility for a child that wasn't his, with a woman he wasn't with. But in their short involvement, Wulan and Teddy worked their way through his street-hardened heart, and now he couldn't imagine a life without their cheeky banters.

Wulan was wearing a faint red lipstick, the one that market vendors sold 7.000 rupiahs each bu gave to her for free, and a nice dress. But now her hair is tousled and her dress was ruffled in the wrong places because “Kamu kalo nyetir ngebut banget, _sih.” _She grumbled, smoothing the edges of her skirt.

“Ya kan Pak Ridwan ngasihnya motor ninja, ya mesinnya cepet.” Sancaka defended himself, “kalo matic, mah, nah, baru.”

Wulan stuck a playful tongue at him, and he grinned, cheekily. The all-too-familiar warmth had once again coated his cheeks for the umpteenth time today, as it often would in the case of facing her.

(But honestly, he wouldn’t mind; any time with her was a time worth spending.)

(Don’t let her know that, though, or she'll get her head bigger than the size of Surabaya's Monkasel.)

Teddy greeted them in a flash, before going back to his friends who all waited in front of the class. The parents were given a queue number and ushered in, leaving the children peering from the tilted windows.

The wait seemed to be forever, of which were spent with Wulan and Sancaka, carefully letting themselves to brush shoulders while not quite leaning into one another's touch. It was a delicate balance, truly.

(Just like the current state of their often times confusing relationship.)

“Teddy Sudjiwa Gunawan?” Called the teacher, snapping Sancaka out of his reverie. He looked at Wulan, sheepishly, and together they approached the teacher's table, arms not quite touching one another.

The teacher smiled and shook their band. “Teddy ini anaknya pintar,” he said brightly, “banyak akal, agak jail, tapi ndak apa.” He said, opening the reports to show important parts. “dia paling berpotensi di matematika dan sains, nilainya bagus-bagus.”

Wulan nodded, wholly invested on her brother's behalf. Sancaka, meanwhile, was internally patting himself. Those maghrib lessons that he put Teddy through before patrol turned out to be a success after all.

“Alhamdulillah-nya, Teddy ini ranking 1, bu.” Said the teacher, beaming.

“Sekelas, Pak?”

“Se-_angkatan._”

Wulan's face brightened, and she turned her face at him, grinning widely. Even in this outskirts school, Teddy had shone—Teddy had been given words of hope for the _future._

Sancaka smiled as well, so giddy his heart could _burst._

“oh ya, bu,” said the teacher, “sekolah ada tradisi untuk mengambil foto anak yang rangking per-angkatan, lengkap sama orang tuanya.” He said, softly, “saya tahu, Ibu bukan orang-tuanya Teddy, tapi barangkali ibu bersedia—?”

When the teacher's eyes drifted to Sancaka as well, it was clear that the offer wasn't only directed at Wulan.

“Oh.” Said Wulan, dumbfounded. “_oh.”_

“ndak apa, kok, bu, kalau ndak mau—” the teacher immediately reassured her. “ini cuma tradisi, bukan kebijakan wajib—”

“nggak.” Said Wulan, equally as hasty. “saya nggak apa. Cuma coba mungkin—” she paused, “saya tanyakan ke anaknya dulu, ya?”

Teddy, turned out, was joyous of the information. “Ya mau lah, Mbak, difoto!” he said, triumphantly. “ranking 1 masa gak difoto?”

Wulan smiled at her little brother, but then she turned at Sancaka, who was observing the whole ordeal with amusement. “San?” she asked, her voice unsure. “kamu gimana?”

Sancaka blinked, looking at her. “Hm?”

When Wulan let the words out of her mouth, they were drawled and barely audible, and she was blushing as she said it. “mau nggak… foto… sama kita?”

She had never looked more adorable.

“Ayo bang,” Teddy added, slyly. “kapan lagi bisa foto sama Mbak Wulan yang lagi dandan cantik, ya kan, ya kan—aduh!”

Wulan deliberately stepped on his foot, looking at him with wide eyes and nervously gritted teeth. Teddy grumbled, and stuck out a tongue at her, before teasing them both cheekily.

“Tuh, pipi Mbak Wulan merah, Mbak Wulan bilang aja kalo malu-malu kucing!”

“Ted, apaan sih, suaramu keras banget—”

“Cie, cie—”

“Awas kamu—”

“Halah, awas, awas, bilang aja sebenernya seneng. Tuh, pipi mas San merah juga—"

Sancaka, meanwhile, watched the whole ordeal and smiled, genuinely. He took Wulan's temporary distraction to brush Wulan's knuckles with his thumb. A silent _yes_.

She looked up in surprise, and when a rosy blush crept up her cheeks, it most probably crept up his too.

(Along with the flutters in his stomach and the quickening _thump-a-thump-a-thump _of his heartbeat, but he wouldn't tell anyone about _that.)_

They ended up asking for two copies of the picture; one that was put on the display rack in Wulan's tiny apartment. And another—a smaller copy—was slipped into Sancaka's wallet, right next to the picture of his mother.

Every time he was tired, or battered, or bruised, he looked at that photo—and suddenly it was all _worth it._

(His co-workers found out, though. They pestered him for weeks about this so-called family, and when they finally discovered the true, weird nature of their really confusing but endearing relationship, they jeered at him for eternity every time Wulan came around the factory looking for him.

They both would blush every time, hands hovering over one another, like a promise.)

And that was the story of how Wulan and Sancaka became Teddy's school parents.

A lie of which, he never really wanted to correct anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> akhirul kalam aku cinta wulancaka the only indonesian hets to ever


End file.
